


The Vardøgr

by eag



Series: The Vardøgr [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Bruce Banner cooks dinner, Bruce Banner plays the piano, Complicated Friendships, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen, Loki Flouncing, M/M, Mortality, Sad Loki, True Meaning of Christmas, inner conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 03:02:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eag/pseuds/eag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strange accident strips Loki of his magic and strands him on Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Asgard**

“I know you're mad at me brother, and to be honest, I'm not particularly happy myself about the restraints.” Thor set his hand on Loki's shoulder, turning Loki gently to face him. “I think it below the dignity of our house. But you must understand that they didn't trust you, and felt that your words were sowing dissent amongst their ranks.” 

Mouth obscured, Loki glared at him, pale eyes icy with contempt.

“Come now, let me take it off.” Thor took the manacles off first, letting them clatter to the stone. And yet Loki did nothing but glare at him, not even trying to remove the mask.

“Don't be like that, Loki.” Thor sighed. He raised his hands to the side of Loki's face, letting his fingers brush Loki's cheeks as he undid the locks on the mask. “You know it wasn't my decision to muzzle you like a beast. Whatever has happened, you know you're still my brother and I lo-” And as the facemask slipped off, Thor saw that beneath the dull metal, Loki's mouth was pursed in the faintest hint of a smile.

“Loki...?” Even as Thor moved to touch his brother, the trickster was already disappearing, fading slightly around the edges.

The mask dropped to the ground as Loki faded like smoke.

“Oh brother...will you never stop falling for this?”

“Loki!”

**New Mexico**

The last thing he remembered was the faintest memory of a garden. Farewells had been said, but they were not for him. And then the searing white-hot light, a flash like lightning that split the sky and split him and...

And here he was. Clothes dust-strewn and torn, as if thrown from a great height onto the desert floor. Dressed in clothes that had a disturbing familiarity. He ran his fingers through his hair; his skin seemed terribly pale. Something was not right, and yet he could not fully understand why. And then a sharp flash of color caught his eye and he was surprised.

Blood. The finest trickle, and he realized that he must have scraped his hand on a rock.

But this could not be; he was a god. Nothing of this primitive world could seriously hurt him; inconvenience him through sheer physics perhaps, but not draw blood like this. Not leave bruises like this. As he slowly came to himself, he could feel the pain in his body, dull aches and sharp twinges that left him breathless and dizzy.

He didn't know what to do. The sky was an engulfing blue, and all around storm clouds were rearing up in tall smoky pillars, making the sky seem awfully vast.

Everything seemed suddenly overwhelming; the crunch of the sand and shale beneath his feet, the swirl of dust around his ankles, the pain gnawing at his bones. A mountain rose up in the distance, black-stained from the towering shadow of clouds. It was wrong. It was all wrong.

“Something...something's not right...” 

He took a few shaky, tentative steps and it seemed that suddenly the ground swung up to meet him. He had just enough time to reach out with his arms to try to break his fall before everything went black.

 *****

He woke up slowly, by degrees. A distant sound threaded through his consciousness, the brittle sound of wind passing through windchimes. A damp cloth was rubbing along his face, cool and impersonal. Something smelled strange, faintly medicinal, and some corner of his mind told him that it was the smell of an antiseptic. 

“I-It's all right. I mean, you're all right. No broken bones. I checked.” The voice seemed oddly familiar, but if he knew it, the familiarity passed quickly. “I found you in the desert. You left quite a streak through the atmosphere. I just hope whoever else saw you thought you were a meteorite, not a man.” 

Loki opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but then it seemed like all the aches and pains of his body came back to him at once, and he flopped back down with a gasp.

“Where am I?”

“My house. Well, it's not really my house. I'm just living here. For now.” An apologetic smile. The bespectacled man sat back, resting his forearms along his knees. He twined his fingers together nervously, not making eye contact. “I didn't expect to see you again. I mean, not so soon. But...maybe that's not a surprise.”

“Again? But...surely. Surely we've never met before.” Loki sat up, this time more carefully, cradling his side as he eased up. 

“Um. We have met. Though not formally, I suppose, and mostly in passing.” The bespectacled man sat up, and offered his hand. “Dr. Bruce Banner.” 

“Loki.” Loki took his hand briefly, not so much shaking it as holding it for a moment.

“Yes. I know.” Bruce smiled wryly. “It's hard not to. You caused a lot of trouble. More than trouble, really. A war.”

“Oh?” Loki's eyebrows lifted in astonishment. “I did?”

“You can't possibly think that I would believe you don't remember.” Bruce stood up suddenly, turning away with a sharp twist of his shoulders. “As tricks go, this is pretty lame.”

“Tricks?” Loki watched him with a sidelong wariness. “This isn't a trick.”

“I knew I should have called them.” Bruce muttered to himself. “Why did I think that I could have...”

The distant rumble of thunder, and Loki flinched.

“W-was that just thunder, or was that your brother?” Bruce hurried to the window. The sky was black with clouds, and the rain began to fall fiercely, clouding the sky with the haze of both falling and evaporating rain.

Lightning strike in the distant horizon, veins of brilliant light spreading across the sky.

“Maybe it's just a storm. Maybe it's your brother.” Bruce sighed expansively. “Maybe a god. Maybe just summer in New Mexico.”

“My brother...” Loki shook his head in amusement. “I find that I am at a disadvantage. You know far more about me than I do you.” 

“Disadvantage?” Bruce laughed. “You fell out of the sky going beyond the speed of sound, and you just have a few bumps and bruises to answer for it. A-and I? I've got the advantage?” 

“You're not who you seem to be.” That was clear enough, from just touching the man.

“And neither are you.” Bruce turned back. “This is stupid. I'm doing what I should have done hours ago; I'm calling S.H.I.E.L.D.” 

“No, you're not.” Loki looked at him from beneath long dark lashes. 

“Why? Why shouldn't I?”

“Because you don't want to.” Loki swung his legs off the narrow bed and stood. Bruce backed up a little; it was not hard to believe that Loki was a god among men. It wasn't just that Loki was a tall man; Bruce had known taller, broader men. But there was something about him, a certain intensity in Loki's eyes, a certain aura of power that seemed beyond mortal men.

And strangely, as soon as it appeared it faded away, like the fading heat of a dying fire. Loki shrugged, and looked away as if mildly embarrassed. “I won't stop you. But you don't want to. You may not say the truth to yourself, but it's there all the same.”

Bruce's hands hovered over the telephone, before sagging back to his sides. He shoved his hands in his pockets, fingering the little scraps of folded paper and bits of metal and plastic that always seemed to accumulate. “Yeah, well I guess you're right.” He glanced over at Loki, who was busy inspecting the furniture and fixtures, ducking his head below a low adobe arch at the hallway to explore the rest of the house.

“Is it because you don't like them? Or is it something else?”

“I...” Bruce's jaw sagged a little, before annoyance twinged at him. “I'm not about to tell you everything. I know who you are.”

“Then you still maintain your advantage.” Loki's voice came to him, muffled slightly by the thick walls of the little house.

Outside, the rain intensified.

*****

Dinner was a stew of heavily spiced lentils, peppers, and squash, spooned over bowls of rice. Loki ate heartily, but Bruce noticed he didn't offer to help. The hazards of serving gods, he thought, smiling to himself as he picked up the empty dishes.

“Something amusing?” Loki was resting his hand on his chin, watching the rain. For a moment Bruce thought perhaps there was some kind of magic that had let Loki know what he was thinking, but then he realized that ever-observant, Loki had been watching him through his reflection in the window.

“No, nothing really.” It was too hard to explain. 

“You needn't fear me, you know.” Loki yawned, turning to rest his chin on both hands. “I won't hurt you. I mean, I'm sure I know how, but...” He shrugged. “I don't think I'm quite capable at this moment.”

“I'm not worried about you hurting me.” That much Bruce could be sure about; he could feel that other self within him stir a little at the thought of violence, at battle. But he took a deep breath and it slowly faded. “I just don't know what you want.”

“But I don't really want anything. Not right now. It feels...as though a heavy burden has been lifted from me. But the lack of that burden means that I am not quite myself right now.” Loki smiled at him, a lazy predatorial look in his eyes. Bruce looked away. 

“I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean,” Bruce said stiffly, knowing that he was never terribly fond of mind-games, and it was probably a horrible mistake to try to play them with a master.

“Oh, neither do I.” Loki's smile grew cold, all teeth and not quite kind. “Tell me, what do you want?”

“I...” A dozen things came to mind, and Bruce felt that none of them could or should be said. So he went with the easiest and most neutral. “I'd like to know why you're here. Is...there something you're trying to accomplish?”

“Here?” Loki tilted his head thoughtfully. “A happy accident. I could easily have landed anywhere, couldn't I? The middle of the ocean. The bottom of a ditch. The heart of the sun. But I'm here.” 

“There...there seems to be too many factors at play for this to be pure coincidence.”

Loki fixed his pale eyes on Bruce's, and he felt pinned by the gaze. “I suppose you don't believe in coincidences.”

“Not when you're involved, no.” Bruce swallowed, feeling his mouth go dry. The man- no, the god was strangely compelling at times. He forced himself to look away, to focus on washing dishes.

“And yet, I don't think I planned for this to happen. But...I'm not quite so sure of myself these days...” Loki trailed off, frowning to himself, and Bruce glared at the suds, wondering exactly what all this meant.

 *****

After the wind swept the rain away, Bruce opened all the doors and windows to let in the cool night air of the desert. His unexpected guest seemed not to have any interest in leaving, not that Bruce could find it in him to tell Loki to go. Loki would be safe here, he argued to himself. Or more like, the world would be safe from Loki if he could keep an eye on the trickster.

Bruce had made up his mind: He would keep Loki here under observation, and hopefully his brother would come for him soon. In the meantime, Bruce would minimize his interactions with Loki, to ensure his own future safety. The certainty of making a decision gave him a sense of relief that nothing else had since he had found the god collapsed in the middle of the desert.

“Um, I'm sorry.”

“Excuse me?” Loki looked up from his contemplation of a large photography book.

“I... That is... I don't really have much to offer in terms of hospitality,” Bruce stumbled the words out, cursing himself for talking too much. “I don't have very much, and my clothes wouldn't fit...and the bed's quite small...” 

“Do you want me to go?”

“No!” And he realized that even Loki noticed that he had refused too quickly and too vehemently. “That is, I just...I can't really offer you very much. Um. You're probably used to better.”

At this, Loki was startled into laughter. “Used to better? Of course. A prince is always 'used to better.' But...” He looked away. “I'm not really a prince anymore. I don't think I ever was.” He frowned, as if remembering something unpleasant.

“No?”

“No.” And Loki smiled at him sweetly, as if a patient teacher to a struggling student. “But I'm adaptable. Show me what hospitality you have to offer, and I will judge the adequacy myself.”

***** 

The bathing facilities were primitive and tiny; Loki had to stoop below the trickle of lukewarm water to wash his hair and could not help but bump his elbows and knees against the confining walls of the tiled shower. 

Nothing of his host's clothing fit him, save for a bathrobe and perhaps a pair of pants, if he cinched them tight around his waist. But even those were too short, leaving much of his ankle exposed. 

He felt strangely awkward, ungainly. He even smelled strange, in an alien way that added to his unease.

He caught his reflection briefly in the mirror, and turned to look at it. Body bruised here and there, livid blue-black marks staining his pale skin. His black hair dripped water along his shoulders, trailing down his spine with cool fingers. But for the bruises, everything looked right.

Yet it wasn't. He couldn't seem to remember a time before the memory of the garden. It was as though his memories should have began somewhere but ended abruptly before any actual images were stored, leaving him only with the knowledge of himself as he was, without context. He knew where he was from, who he was. He knew somewhere there was a brother (but was that something he actually knew or was that because he was told?). He knew his name.

He knew he had spoken the truth to the bespectacled man; it seemed that deep down he knew that the truth served more purpose and was far more effective than any amount of lies. But why he was here and why he lingered, in the presence of one who could or would be his enemy, he could not say.

Perhaps, he thought to himself, that in his age, he was growing soft.

But that was a thought that he suddenly realized was not his own; he had overheard Bruce say it, muttering it under his breath when he thought Loki wasn't paying attention.

Not that he ever stopped paying attention. 

Which left him with the most unpleasant realization that something had gone awry with his abilities. He was no longer as strong or as powerful as he was. He knew that he had talents that would essentially be beyond mortal ken, and yet when he tried to express them, even in the most minimal sense, the power seemed to be absent. 

He remembered using them like a man might use his legs for running, easy and effortlessly, but even here when he tried his most basic trick, to make a simple illusion with a little motion of his hand, nothing happened.

The absence was profound and profoundly distressing. 

He stared at the little slightly-warped mirror, glaring at himself for this unpleasant and unbecoming weakness, dripping water around his bare feet onto the clay-tiled floor when he heard the door click open behind him.

He twisted around, ready to meet whatever had tried sneaking up on him, only to startle the poor mortal.

Bruce backed up, momentarily shaken, and Loki noticed him breathing hard, as if to quell some sudden distress or pain inside of him. 

“So sorry.” Loki watched as Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, focused on breathing. “I-I should have knocked. I was afraid you had passed out again. Head injuries. You know, from earlier,” he added lamely. “I swear it's not because I wanted to see you. I'm sorry. The more I talk, the more it sounds like a bad excuse...” 

Loki kept a skeptical eye on Bruce, enjoying Bruce's discomfort, the averted eyes that couldn't help but dart between Loki's body and anywhere else that wasn't his body, at the faint blush that was almost imperceptible against his sun-darkened skin.

“I... You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the couch. It's too short for you anyway.” And at that, Bruce beat a hasty retreat.

 *****

In the dim light by the couch, Bruce dragged a light woolen blanket over his shoulders. It was growing cold, but he wouldn't close the windows until before dawn, to try to catch as much of the cool night air as possible before the burning heat of the day. 

He picked up a book and tried reading it, but after realizing he had only read the same page over and over without truly understanding it, he realized he couldn't focus. 

Somewhere in this little house, miles from a settlement that could barely be called a village, he was harboring an intergalactic fugitive. All because he wanted a little privacy.

The absurdity made him snicker to himself. In the morning, he thought, perhaps it would all turn out to be a dream. A figment of his own over-fevered imagination. The product of too many days of self-imposed isolation.

But in the morning, when he peeked past the woven curtain that made for a makeshift bedroom door, Loki was still there, curled up on the narrow bed. The gray dawn light brought out the cold blue undertones of his skin, and for a second, Bruce's stomach twisted, thinking he was looking at a corpse.

And then Loki moved, shifting in his sleep to draw the quilt up to his chin, and Bruce breathed a sigh of relief.

He couldn't stay long; there was work to do. Yet he couldn't help but watch for a moment. Curling strands of black hair brushed Loki's cheek, such a sharp contrast against his pale skin. The passing temptation to step forward and brush it back, so lightly that the sleeper would not notice. Bruce shook his head, disappointed in himself, and left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce had only recently begun to live out in the middle of the desert, away from the cities and the men that were behind S.H.I.E.L.D. He had turned down lucrative research opportunities, turned down opportunities for money and power, turned down offers of companionship, all to keep his freedom. Hiding out in the open, where they knew exactly where he was living, so that they would feel secure enough to not constantly surveil his life. It was a gamble that was so far paying off, but for this unexpected turn of events.

He considered the possibility of Loki using him, the other him to wreck havoc, but it seemed unlikely. He was too far away from people to do any real harm and besides, he had mostly managed that other self quite nicely. 

“So what are you doing here?” Bruce muttered to himself. “Summer vacation in scenic New Mexico? Eating me out of house and home?” He chuckled as he toyed with bits of wire and paper and metal washers, building a model to help him solve a knotty matrix problem. “Must be the latter.” And realizing that would be a tidy solution to getting rid of at least one of the so-called Avengers, he laughed so much he nearly broke his model matrix.

The sound of course, attracted Loki, who seemed never far from his side.

“You look better today. Not as stiff.” Loki smiled at him, quite genuinely charming, and Bruce couldn't help but smile back.

“So do you. How are your ribs feeling? Your head?”

“Much better, thank you.” Loki pulled up a chair and sat down beside Bruce to watch him work. “You're doing mathematics, aren't you?”

“Yes. How did you know?” 

“I'm not uneducated,” Loki said primly, slightly offended.

“Sorry, sorry. I never know who knows this stuff. A lot of people around here don't.” 

“Well. It seems fairly straightforward. But...” Loki shrugged. “I don't think I could tell you where I learned it.”

Bruce glanced at him sidelong; Loki seemed lost in thought. “So uh, this has been bothering me...”

“Yes?”

“I've been wondering, you...you've been having some problems with your memory, right? Because I was thinking you took a serious fall and perhaps you have some short-term memory loss that's consistent with head injuries and-”

Loki paused for a moment, looking down at his long-fingered hands. “Suppose you're right, that falling from the sky at a great height has caused me to...temporarily lose my memories. So what? It's not like anything you can do would restore them. Isn't that right?

“Yes but...” Bruce paused, thinking about what he wanted to say. “Look at it this way. You're kind of a dangerous guy...”

“Oh.” Loki turned and smiled at him again, but this time without the charm of earlier. “I had forgotten that.” The way he said it suggested to Bruce that he had certainly not forgotten. Bruce's eyes darted back to his matrix.

“'Kind of a dangerous guy,'” Loki murmured to himself. “Tell me then. Why aren't you afraid of me?”

“Don't try to bully me,” Bruce scowled.

“No, honestly. Genuine curiosity.” Loki smiled, all teeth and no warmth. “If I'm really as dangerous as you think I am, then why aren't you afraid?”

Bruce paused. “Foolishness, maybe. Yeah. Mostly that. And...”

“And?”

“And maybe...maybe I've got bigger things to be afraid of than you.”

“That thing. Inside you.” Loki said casually, watching Bruce struggle to focus on his work.

“That thing...that other guy. Is me.” Bruce set his hands down on his knees, sitting back calmly. “I don't like to think that it...that he is. But...”

“But what?”

Bruce set his model aside. All the things that he wanted to say trembled at the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed back the words. He could not forget who he was sitting here with; he could never forget. He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“So wise to hold your tongue, if I truly am the monster that you believe me to be. Here.” Loki leaned forward solicitously, as if the entire conversation had never happened. “The scale on this third axis is off by just a little.” And he bent the corner of the model fractionally, pinching it between his fingers, and everything seemed to fall into place.

*****

Loki's first impression was that this man's life was a drab, spartan existence. Exiled on the edge of a vast desert, with nothing but books and the tedious chores of maintaining a household. There were a few acres of land around the house that had been reclaimed for agriculture, and early in the morning, he had followed Bruce through the gardens, where he was shown the irrigation system that dripped only the most minimal amounts of water to keep the food-bearing plants alive.

It was an apt metaphor for this man. Living on plain fare, free from many of the foodstuffs that Loki felt was essential; meat and wine, bread and cheese. Sleeping on a narrow bed, not nearly large enough for company. No one around to entertain him, no one to talk to; nothing but books and stacks of blank paper that Bruce continually covered with scribbles of numbers. It was an ascetic existence.

And yet Loki saw that Bruce was not bored. And even stranger, Loki found that he himself was not bored. Bruce kept himself constantly busy with projects and it seemed only reasonable for Loki to observe, if not fully participate. They had picked ripe ears of corn from tall stalks, harvested peppers from glossy green plants; he had watched Bruce work on a convoluted formula on the subject of gamma radiation; and they had made lunch together, with Bruce guiding him through the minor mystery of eating roasted corn.

After cleaning up, Loki followed Bruce into the room where he seemed to spend most of his time, a room that in other houses might be used for entertaining, but had been mostly converted into a large office. He thought that Bruce would return to deep contemplation of his gamma radiation formula. But instead, Bruce pulled out a narrow bench and sat himself at a closed cabinet. 

Finding it strange, Loki came over for a closer look. It was unremarkable, dark wood dented and scratched, but neatly polished, suggesting careful maintenance. Bruce sorted through some loose papers before putting them where he could see them, and pushed open a sliding drawer.

Immediately, he began to play, and Loki realized that it was a large keyed musical instrument. But he had made a little noise of surprise at the sound, and noticing that, Bruce turned to him with a spark of amusement in his eye. “It's a piano. Great old Steinway. I'm pretty lucky this was here,” he said haltingly, between phrases of the music.

“Sorry.” He paused, for a moment, fingers lightly brushing the keys. “I haven't done this in a while so it'll take some time to warm up. It's going to be boring...”

“It's all right.” Loki gestured to the bench. “May I sit and watch?”

“Um.” And he could tell Bruce wasn't particularly pleased by the idea, but he shrugged and moved over so Loki could sit. “Sorry if I bump into you.”

At that, he launched into exercises, sequential things that followed particular patterns. Bright sparkling ones, rhythmically convoluted ones, patterns that seemed to fractal and then converge. Loki watched Bruce's fingers closely; his broad hands were surprisingly clever, moving quickly and competently through the exercises. 

Loki lost track of time. Shoulder brushed lightly by Bruce's, Loki half-drowsed to a series of repetitive note sequences, some calm, some strangely melancholy, others with an almost unpleasant tension. And then Bruce stopped playing.

It was silence that brought Loki back to awareness, and he turned to look at Bruce, who pulled a thin book from atop the piano.

Without looking at Loki, Bruce flipped through the book. “I can manage hitting all the right notes at the right time, but I'll never be a great musician. I started too late. Picked this up in college because I needed something to do that got me out of the lab once in a while and I figured that this was cheaper than spending a lot of money on oil paints and pencils.”

He turned, catching Loki's eye. “But then again, you've probably never heard these pieces, so you can't judge how well I play them.” He smiled a little, nervously to himself.

“Please. Go on.” Loki gestured, shifting a little on the bench so that Bruce had more room.

“We'll start with something I like to play. Actually, it's played to death, but something about it always reminds me of winter and hell, on a hot day like this, thinking about the cold seems to cool me off. I think it's supposed to be more delicate, like falling snowflakes, but...” he gestured helplessly. “I'm more of a brute force kind of guy.” 

“Does the song have a name?”

“Yeah, Prelude in C Major. BWV 846. One of the definitive pieces for studying theory.”

With that, Bruce put his hands on the keyboard and took a deep, steadying breath. He was silent, completely still for a moment, and from here Loki could see his dark lashes quiver slightly over half-hooded eyes. Then Bruce's dark eyes snapped open, fixed with that particular intensity and focus that was only natural for him, and he launched into the beginning of the music.

Though he had meant to watch Bruce's hands, Loki found himself more entranced by Bruce's expressions, the way his eyebrows knit as his eyes scanned the page, the little sharp intakes of breaths and sighs as a steady logical flow of music poured out from beneath his fingers.

*****

Sometime after dusk, Bruce realized he had lost track of Loki. He wandered through the house, wondering where Loki could be. The rooms were all dark and silent. He went through them again, and this time when he went into the kitchen, he realized that his kitchen knives were missing.

“Shit, shit, shit...” He muttered. Grabbing a flashlight, he rushed outside.

It was the full moon, or near it. The air was still hot, the ground retaining the heat of the day, but bright moonlight frosted the ground with its cold light, giving it an incongruous, unsettling atmosphere.

He found Loki beneath the shade of a mesquite tree, the needle-like leaves leaving unsettling shadows over his face and hands. And then he realized some of those strange shadows were specks and splatters of some dark fluid. Blood.

“Loki...” He felt his breath tighten in his throat, and he stopped, taking a moment to quiet the restlessness inside of him.

Loki straightened up, hearing his voice. He was smiling brightly, and it made his blood-stippled hands and face seem all the more inappropriate. “Ah. I was wondering when you'd wake. I went out to see the sunset, and found this creature loitering on your land.” He drew up a strange, shadowy shape, and Bruce recognized the long, curved antlers of a white-tailed deer. 

“And...you killed it.”

“I was downwind.”

“You're butchering it. In my yard.”

“Well, yes. Where else would I butcher it?”

“I...” Bruce rubbed at his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Loki ignored him. “Come here, Bruce. You should have some while it's still hot.”

“Excuse me?”

Loki reached down, and Bruce saw the flash of the knife as it severed something deep inside the shadows of the deer's body cavity. He stepped out from beneath the shade of the tree, and it seemed that he was holding something black in his hands, faintly steaming around his fingers.

“The liver.” Loki neatly sliced off a sliver, and brought it to Bruce's lips. “You should try it. There's no better pleasure than to eat something that is still warm from its life.”

“I don't...”

“You have objections to eating meat?” Loki raised an eyebrow.

“No, I... It's just...” And thinking not to offend Loki, he took the morsel in mouth, feeling the faintest brush of Loki's cool fingers against his lips.

“It's good, isn't it?”

Coppery, with the strong iron tang of blood, followed by something firmer and yet yielding under his teeth. Even though his initial reaction was revulsion, that other self inside of him found it terribly satisfying, deeply delicious in a primal, animalistic way. And then, for just a brief instant, he could not tell who exactly enjoyed it more.

Bruce remembered that some ancient cultures believed that the liver was the source of life. It had still been hot on his tongue, and it made Bruce feel as though he had been suddenly transported into some strange anthropological documentary. Asgard: An Ethnography. Bruce smirked a little to himself at the thought.

Loki insisted on sharing the liver, and they stood under the cold moon, eating the life of the deer, one bite at a time.


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce took a deep breath. The desert night air had a dry herbal pungency that he loved; the mingled scents of dust and sage, of sun-baked stones and scrub grasses. It was growing cool, but the moon was bright and so they were walking, skirting the foothills of the craggy mountainside. Above, the twinkle of the stars was muted by the glare of moonlight, but even still Bruce could see the faint smudge of the Milky Way arcing across the sky. 

“You're pretty good at butchering. I'm glad you took care of it; I don't think I could be of any help. I'm still kind of surprised that you could fit it all in the fridge.” 

“Yes, well. It appears that I am a good hunter.” Loki walked slowly at Bruce's side, shortening his stride a little to match the much shorter man's pace. “There's nothing quite so pleasing as the fulfillment of a hunt. The chase, the kill. The feast.” 

“I'm not sure a lot of people would agree with that these days. A couple hundred years ago, that sentiment would have been far more popular.” Bruce kicked at a rock, wondering if this meant that Loki was coming to himself, or if it was just idle talk.

“You don't eat much meat, do you?”

“I sort of fell out of the habit,” Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets. There was a loose button, a bent paperclip, and a small spring in the left pocket, and a piece of sturdy cardstock folded into a collapsible tetrahedron in the right. “I lived in a place that was really poor for a long time, and it was too expensive. And after I came back to the States, I was pretty busy for a while. And now, I just...it's too much trouble to get meat and eggs and milk and stuff like that out here, unless I raise it myself.”

“And you don't?”

“Too much trouble.” 

“You don't like to get your hands dirty.”

Bruce laughed a little. “I guess you could say that. I try to stay away from killing things if I can help it. Plus, I don't want to have to fight the coyotes for my chickens. They were here first.” Bruce glanced over at Loki. Moonlight melted over the asymmetrical planes of his clothing and glinted off the oddly pliant metallic armor and golden adornments. He had touched it briefly when Loki had been unconscious; it was strange clothing that had no obvious fastenings. He had only managed to roughly feel Loki over for broken bones. It had been difficult to tell through the armor and layers of material, but then again, there had always been worse and more difficult things that he had done in the past.

“What are you thinking?” Loki peered at him, and Bruce realized he had been caught staring.

“Oh. Um. Just wondering about your clothes. They don't seem to get dirty, do they? I didn't see a drop of blood on them when you were cutting up that deer.”

“These? No.” Loki gestured. His hands were pale, eerily white in the moonlight. “They're terribly strong.”

“Maybe that's how you survived the fall.”

“Maybe.” 

“I'm honestly still curious about that. What happened, exactly? Do you remember anything that happened right before the uh, accident? Was it something to do with the Tesseract? Do you think your brother-”

“I don't know.” Loki turned away sharply.

Bruce paused, watching Loki walk away quickly, and then realized he shouldn't let him out of sight. Bruce found himself half-running to catch up with Loki's long-legged strides.

“Loki!” 

Loki skidded to a halt, halfway down the slope of the shallow hill they had been climbing. “Whatever it is you wish to say, I don't want to speak of it anymore.”

“Hey, calm down. I'm sorry. I didn't mean-”

“You can't understand. I know who I am. At least I think I do. But I can't be certain. There's something... I can't explain it. I don't want to be like this anymore. I just want-” Loki shook his head, hands pressed over the middle of his body, and lamely Bruce could only think that Loki's hands were pressed protectively over his liver. 

Bruce caught Loki's forearm with a firm but gentle grip. “Listen, I'm sorry I offended you but-”

Loki looked down at him and the light, that horrible white light of the moon was behind him, leaving his whole face in a shadow, unreadable. 

“Bruce...” It was almost a whisper.

In the distance, thunder cracked, and they both flinched. A maelstrom rose in the east, descending from the sky, and then Bruce could feel it, an electric charge in the air that made the hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck lift. He could feel the atmospheric energy rise, buzzing through his bones, an unpleasant sensation that made the other self within him stir and complain. 

A moment later, Bruce felt the sudden displacement of a mass of air around him, like the jolt of a passing train, and he nearly fell, but he felt Loki's hand pivot around his wrist, catching his forearm tightly and drawing him back up before he lost his footing.

“Unhand my brother!” a deep voice growled, and without looking, Bruce knew who had arrived.

*****

Thor sent the mortal away; matters between the sons of Odin were not for strangers to gawk at. He waited until he could only see the man's back at a distance, then turned Loki to face him.

“I don't even know what to say to you anymore. Do you have any understanding of the trouble you've caused?”

Loki was silent, watching him dispassionately. 

“Father is angry. You must know that.” 

Loki's face was unreadable, but for the sharp gleam in his eyes that Thor recognized. “Father wants us both back home. Do you know how much you've upset our mother? When she heard that you had fallen in with such bad company....”

“I'm sorry.” Loki said simply, drawing away. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't play dumb with me, brother.” Thor caught him hard under his chin, turning Loki's face to him. Their eyes met briefly, and Loki gasped with pain. Thor quickly let him go. 

“What's happened to you?” Thor whispered, a voice full of muted horror.

“I don't know.” Even by moonlight, Thor could see the tears in his brother's eyes. “I don't remember. I don't know you. Who are you?”

“How could...how could you not know me?” Thor's hands closed over Loki's slender shoulders, and he made an effort to be gentle, to not hold him as tightly as he wanted to. “Is this a prank? Please, tell me that you're playing a trick on me...” But deep down, he knew this could not possibly be anything but what it appeared to be. In that instant that their eyes met, he could see it. The thing that made them Asgardian, made them tough enough to travel through space, made them stronger than mortals and nearly immortal, was gone, snuffed out of Loki like a falling star, leaving only a fragile mortal shell behind.

“Truly, I wish I did.” Loki's eyes were a study in pain.

“Loki.” Thor drew him close into a careful embrace, feeling the familiar lines of his brother's body against him, with a stranger's unfamiliar tension. “Oh, my brother...” Dark curls brushed his bearded cheek, and Thor wept, tears sliding off Loki's black-clad shoulder.

*****

“Misunderstandings,” Bruce muttered to himself as he headed back to his house, a few distant squares of warm light shadowed by a mountainside dotted with stunted trees. 

He ventured a backward glance back at the siblings in the distance. Tall figures casting tall shadows on the desert floor. He wondered what they were talking about, but then put it from his mind. Family stuff, he thought. Always a mess. You can't win. 

By the time the two returned to the house, he had made some tea and was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at an open book. Thor left his hammer outside the house; it cracked the parched ground, and Bruce could feel the impact shudder through the building like a tiny earthquake. 

They came in, red-eyed and silent, and he could immediately feel the tension in the room. Without a word, Thor walked past him, heading for the bedroom. Loki glanced at him only briefly, too quickly for Bruce to see what his expression might have been.

He could not help but notice that Thor had Loki by the wrist, and that Loki went unresisting.

Bruce went outside, walking briskly away from the house. Perseus would be rising soon, in the northeast. If he hurried, he might be able to catch it as it crested the horizon.

*****

The house was silent. The room smelled like old wool and dried plants, with the faint musk of the man who had been sleeping there before. Thor pushed aside the woolen curtain, ducking his head as he went through the threshold. Loki did the same, though hesitantly as Thor drew him inside.

It was a small room made even smaller by the presence of two large men.

“My poor little brother.” Thor sat Loki down on the bed, arm around Loki's waist. “What's become of you?”

Loki kept his eyes on Thor's face, watching intently, saying nothing. 

“Our parents will be heartbroken. Before when you were lost, there was always the possibility of you returning home. But now...”

“Why...” His voice came out choked, half-stifled. Loki cleared his throat, “Why can't I go home?” 

“Because...you're mortal now. Even if I could take you with me, your body could not survive the journey to Asgard. You would die before we passed through the atmosphere entirely.” Thor's hand cupped Loki's cheek, feeling his cool skin beneath his palm. “There is no law that keeps you from returning home, but for the laws of nature.”

“Asgard,” Loki said thoughtfully, as if testing the word out for himself.

“Where we are princes, the sons of Odin.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Loki slipped out from beneath Thor's grip. “We may be near the same height, but we look nothing alike. I know you're supposed to be my brother. Even Bruce said so. But...”

“But what?”

“But some part of me doesn't believe it. As though I know it could never be true. No matter...” Loki's mouth twisted, as if he was tasting something bitter. “No matter how much...I might want it to be.” The words came hard.

“No, brother. Don't say that. You have always been my brother. You always will be.” 

Loki looked away. “Why did you bring me here? Why did you send Bruce away?”

Thor paused for a moment, unable to speak. “B-because you're my brother and-”

“There's more, isn't there?” Loki's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“I cannot tarry. I must go and tell our parents what's happened. Perhaps we can send someone to find a cure...”

“But because you can't stay long, you want...you want something of me.”

Embarrassed, Thor stood and took Loki's hands, pressing his lips to the tips of his long fingers. “I wanted...”

“Yes?”

“I wanted to...stay with you tonight. In case...we don't...” Thor shook his head, unable to continue. 

“We weren't merely brothers, were we?” Loki leaned forward, searching Thor's face. “Not quite. It was more and less and perhaps something else entirely.” 

“Loki...” 

“You want something of me that you're not willing to say aloud-”

And at that, Thor drew him in for a kiss.

*****

Perseus rose, but behind a veil of clouds that had gathered to fill the sky. Bruce wondered if they were a side effect of the dimensional storm that had brought Thor here. He thought about vector fields for a moment, and wondered what that maelstrom would have looked like plotted in three dimensions.

He looked at the mug in his hand, and then realized he had carried it unthinkingly up the side of the mountain. Untasted, his tea had grown cold. He poured it out on the ground and hoped that some tiny plant might receive some benefit from the waste.

*****

It was as if his body remembered something that his mind didn't. Loki found himself yielding, so simply and completely that it seemed that this was something his body had always known and always accepted. Crushed up against the wall, the edge of the woven curtain brushing his knuckles, he felt oddly detached, as if it were happening to someone else and not him.

It was not a bad thing to be wanted so deeply and so desperately. But something about it felt off, felt flat. He closed his eyes, letting his body do the work of responding for him, letting his thoughts go in a riot of sensation.

Later, when he was half-asleep, tumbled onto the ground in a tangle of bedding, Thor's arms around him and his blond head resting heavy on his shoulder, Loki wondered for a moment where Bruce was. The house seemed particularly empty without his presence.


	4. Chapter 4

Loki woke first; the floor was hard and disagreeable. He had moved onto the bed, but found that he could not rest. In the moonlit room, he saw his brother stir and reach for him in his sleep.

He smiled a little. Thor had been kind to him, more tender and gentle than he felt was possible from a man like that, a fighting man with rough-calloused hands who had known all the cruelties of war. It seemed he had known Loki's body better than even Loki knew it, though to be fair, these days it seemed like everyone knew more about him than he himself did.

Loki dressed in the dark; the comfort of being clothed made him feel secure, shielded from the world. He rested his forearm against the window ledge beside the bed. The windows were open and the cool air inviting. It looked out over the sparse forest that swarmed the mountainside behind the house. He saw a movement in the trees and wondered if it was a deer or a coyote.

He tried to imagine what it would be like, being a prince in a golden palace, with loving parents and a brother fierce and protective. It seemed like a distant dream that could never belong to him, never be a part of him. This little world of the house and garden and the open desert was more real to him than the promise of a distant magical realm. 

Loki thought about the first thing he saw, the hazy memory of the garden. And when he thought about it more closely, it seemed that perhaps Bruce had been there too. Was it likely? He thought he should ask Bruce when he had a chance. Bruce probably remembered it better than he did.

It would be nice to hear some music, he decided, but the house was empty. He wondered if Bruce would play again for him. Bruce had played for a few hours that afternoon, playing a few favorites before he worked on learning a new piece. After he quit with bemused frustration, he had told Loki a story about an old man who had walked all day to play for a king, who tried to confound him with a musical riddle.

Thor still seemed to reach for him in his sleep. Loki thought that it would be unkind to leave him alone like that, sprawled out on the floor, half-covered in a woolen blanket. He slipped off the narrow bed and into Thor's embrace, closing his eyes as strong arms wrapped around his waist, as a rough-bearded cheek pressed against his own.

Loki drew a deep breath.

He let his fingers wind through Thor's long hair. Something about that felt particularly soothing. He pressed his mouth against Thor's lightly, and he could feel Thor's lips move in a smile beneath his. 

Loki felt safer and warmer than he had in a long time, as though everything had temporarily been made right.

But he slept fitfully, and was up again before dawn, wandering the house.

*****

“Morning, Dr. Banner.” 

Bruce blinked, coming awake. The cold, gray light of dawn was slowly seeping over the land. There were no colors in the world yet, just grays and blacks. He sat up, shivering, realizing that he had fallen asleep outside. The mug sat by his hip, and stupidly he thought about how it needed to be washed before the tea stained the stoneware. He turned to see who had addressed him; the voice seemed familiar...

Hawkeye. Bruce sighed. So they came anyway. It was what he feared, yet he was not surprised, not after last night's atmospheric disturbance so close to his home. The man was standing on the slope above him, armed to the teeth. Bruce glanced down at the house; the lights were still on. He realized that Hawkeye had a perfect vantage point from here, and wondered how long the man had been watching him.

So much for freedom and privacy, Bruce thought.

“Long time no see. Been sleeping rough?” 

“Eh, you know. Long day. Night.” Bruce shrugged and stood up, stretching muscles stiff from the cold, dusting off his clothes. He tried to remember the man's real name, and failed. “Guess S.H.I.E.L.D. noticed.” 

“Good guess.”

“Gonna do something about it?” Bruce tried to say it as casually as he could, but he couldn't help feeling that his words had an implicit challenge in them.

“Yeah.” Hawkeye watched the house intently. “It's what I do.”

“I'd prefer if you didn't. I don't think you have all the data. It's not what it seems, I swear.”

“Sounds like you've been compromised.” 

“I haven't. To be honest, I don't think it's possible, now that the Tesseract is gone. Even if it is...well, just look at my eyes.” 

He turned, facing Hawkeye, and he felt Hawkeye's scrutiny keenly. The man reached out and tipped Bruce's head slightly, side-to-side, up and down, but could not find anything. Eventually, almost disappointed, he let Bruce go. 

“That doesn't prove anything. You may have been compromised in another way,” Hawkeye said coolly, but Bruce could hear the hard edge in the man's voice.

“It doesn't matter. Look, just...just let Thor handle it. It's out of our hands. He's in there right now. If you do something to his brother, you might as well start a war.”

“Like the one his brother tried to start here?”

“Come on, you know it would be much worse if Asgardians came for us. I don't know if you ever studied much history, but nothing good's ever come from assassinating a member of royalty...”

“It wouldn't be an assassination.” Clint. That was his name, Bruce suddenly remembered, Clint Barton. He had heard Natasha talk about him. “It would be revenge.” He found it absolutely absurd that this man could talk so calmly about ending a life.

“Don't. Wait a few hours, see what happens. They'll probably just leave for Asgard and never come back.”

“I can't chance that.”

“Exactly what did Nick Fury send here you to do?”

“He didn't send me.” The words sent a chill through Bruce. The man had gone rogue. It was far worse than he thought. If S.H.I.E.L.D. was involved, they could at least be reasoned with.

“You don't need to do this.”

“Maybe not. Besides,” Hawkeye drew an arrow smoothly, notching it against the bowstring before drawing back, “I doubt I could actually hurt him. I saw men shoot him and bullets didn't even leave a mark. But I want to try.”

“No!”

*****

Loki heard Bruce's voice faintly, sounding distressed. He ran out the door. Behind him, an arrow came through the window and sliced neatly through the spot he had been standing in, lodging itself in the heavy wood of the kitchen table.

“Bruce?” Loki stood in a little spill of light just outside the door. To the east, the sun was rising, spilling a blush of color across the sky. He looked around; the yard and the gardens beyond were empty, but then he heard a commotion in slopes above the house.

“Loki!” 

He heard the arrow before he felt it go in, a sharp whistling sound, and then the impact spun him back, almost knocking him off his feet. He stumbled, feeling at his throat, feeling the unforgiving pressure there.

He saw the arrow before he felt it with his hands. The steel shaft with it black fletching, jutting out from just under his chin, in the little hollow between his collarbones. 

It was a good, clean shot. A killing shot. Only he knew it wouldn't be fast. He would be some time dying. His fingers scrabbled at the arrow. If he could only manage to draw it quickly, he might not feel the pain.

But then the pain came anyway, and he collapsed to the ground.

*****

“Loki!” Thor came roaring out of the house, and he ran to his brother's side. Blood was everywhere; it spilled black onto the ground but as the sun rose, the color slowly desaturated, turning red-black to red. “Brother! Who did this to you?!”

Loki's eyes were wide and full of tears, his pale hands slick with blood. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then he was gasping, choking on his own blood, drowning in it. 

Thor took Loki in his arms, feeling his brother's body spasm in pain. He held him tight. “I will avenge you, my brother.” Time enough for mourning later. It would only be right to give the dying what he really needed, the head of the man who murdered him.

Thor raised his right hand, and Mjolnir came to his hand with a satisfying smack. “Find me the man who has spilled the blood of my blood.” 

“Wait!” Bruce came running downhill, nearly falling in his haste. “Wait. He's gone. He's gone. He disappeared. I looked away for a moment-”

“What do you know of these matters?” Thor snarled, hammer at the ready. “Where did he go? Who was it? It was that archer, wasn't it?”

“Let it go, that's not important right now. Oh shit, shit.” Bruce fumbled with his glasses. “Let me have a look at him, maybe there's something I can do...”

*****

Through the haze of pain, Loki saw his brother, and he saw Bruce. Bruce was wearing his glasses. Things seemed to feel far away now, and it seemed that he couldn't quite hear what they were saying anymore. Darkness was converging, shadows creeping up in his peripheral vision. Bruce touched the sides of his throat, just lightly, and then drew back with trembling hands. He shook his head, with a finality that made Loki want to tell him that it would be all right.

It wouldn't be much longer. He tried not to move too much; jarring the arrow made things worse.

He thought about the garden again. Wasn't he supposed to ask Bruce something? But then, the memory came back as clear as the empty blue sky above.

Farewells had been said, but they were not for him. A circle of people had seen them off. Through the haze of the past, he saw his brother, serious and grim. And he saw Bruce.

He had been wearing a yellow shirt.

Loki almost smiled at the memory. It was the closest thing he had to a past.

And just before everything disappeared, he saw himself leaning over him, the self that he knew he should be. Powerful, with the aura of godliness. Smiling in the morning sunshine, sunlight glinting off his golden armor, offering him an outstretched hand.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes.


	5. Coda

As he blinked back tears, Bruce could feel the other self within him stirring, growing more and more insistent with every breath, every drumming beat of his heart..

He refused it, tried to sublimate it in the clinical concern for a patient's life, that safe place deep inside him that he had discovered, one of the rare places he could count on to protect him in times of stress, but the other self was loud, angry, and wanted to do something about the injustice of the world.

His breaths were coming too fast. He had to do something...

*****

“There you are.” Loki stood over his double, and with a little gesture like gathering a handful of grass, the copy disappeared. The arrow clattered to the ground. “I knew something was missing. I just can't believe how this one was so lively. The Tesseract is utterly too powerful.” Even the blood disappeared, leaving no trace.

“What...” Shocked, Bruce looked up. The struggle with his other self had been serious but short; Loki's reappearance had been the equivalent of being dashed with ice water.

“Brother...?” Thor looked up, with an expression that was half confusion and half relief.

“Oh, don't look so surprised.” Loki made a face. “What kind of an idiot tries to store a four-dimensional object in a three-dimensional object? That fancy box Stark built for the Tesseract couldn't hold water.”

“...I told him it wouldn't work...” Bruce muttered to himself.

“Yes, well. The containment field was far less than perfect. If you see Stark, thank him for me.” Loki peered at the two men curiously. “It's barely morning and you two look like you've already had a terrible day.”

“Loki! You scared me to half to death!” Thor brushed back his tears angrily, hands reaching for Loki's collar. He caught him, and gave him a sharp shake. “Why must you always do this?

“Oh, so nice to see you too, brother.” Loki chuckled as Thor embraced him, hard. “Honestly, this time it was not intentional.” He patted Thor's back condescendingly before pushing him off, slipping out of his arms. “Complete accident, I swear. I thought I'd make just one copy for you to take home to Asgard to play the good son, but something went wrong in the transfer.”

“I thought you had died!”

“All right, that I admit was a mean trick.”

“Wait, so you-” Bruce looked back up the slope, looking for signs of Hawkeye.

“Yes, that was me up there.” Loki gestured casually. “The real Clint Barton is still under observation. Of course, you don't spend quite a few days with a man without learning the particulars of his personality.”

“Loki! You, you...horrible, miserable little-”

“Don't strain yourself, brother.” Loki straightened his collar. “Well, it's been nice chatting. Unfortunately I can't stay too long. I know the All-Father wants me home, but I have some business to attend to first.”

“Wait.” Bruce took off his glasses, and walked up to Loki. His hand closed lightly around the tips of Loki's long fingers, as if to prove Loki's existence to himself. “If this is the real you...then was that other one you as well?”

“This is the real me. That...was me also. Well, a part of me.” Loki's expression grew strange, a thoughtful melancholy coming over his eyes. He looked down at Bruce for a long moment, before clasping Bruce's shoulder with his free hand.

“Someday soon you'll have to play the piano for me again. I look forward to it.”

“Loki...”

Loki let him go, drawing away as Thor moved closer. “Good-bye brother. Last night made for some fond memories. I suppose I'm not mad at you for now, but I sincerely hope we don't meet again for a while.”

Thor caught him by the shoulder, but under his hand Loki disappeared in a wisp of smoke.

A moment later, the ground shook with the force of displaced air as Thor took off after him.

Bruce stood outside and watched until Thor was barely a speck in the distant sky. It didn't take long. Soon he was alone.

He went back into his house. He took off his dusty shoes and left them by the door. He could hear the metallic jangle of a windchime, and the soft creak of his socked feet on the old floorboards. He closed the windows; it would be getting hot soon.

He was tired, sore from sleeping out, and the little scratch in his throat hinted at the first signs of a cold. He rubbed at his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been a difficult few days, but things had more or less worked themselves out. Loki was gone. The other guy had managed to stay put. He was still free of S.H.I.E.L.D. interference, and he was going to live his quiet life in his quiet house, just as he had planned.

Only it seemed kind of flat. Without Loki around, the house was oddly still, almost unpleasantly so. He laid down on the couch, and drawing the blanket over his head, wondered where Loki was now. Still hiding somewhere nearby? Or had he gone far away? A dozen questions swirled through his mind, but Bruce put them aside.

It wasn't his responsibility anymore. He had done as best he could. It wasn't quite good enough, but then again, it never really was.

It took a while for him to relax; he did some breathing and mental exercises to try to get the muscles in his body to stop trembling, to go lax. Eventually he felt calm enough to doze off.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, Bruce had an epiphany.

Perhaps he should get a cat.

 

**New Mexico: Winter**

Bruce was playing through variants of three-octave arpeggios, when he heard – no, felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere, as if the temperature and pressure in the room fractionally shifted, growing a little colder and denser.

He stopped, but before he could get up, a person sat down beside him on the piano bench. Their shoulders bumped slightly, and he moved over to give his visitor more room.

“Please, don't stop playing.” Loki smiled at him, and Bruce could not help but smile back awkwardly.

“I-It's...just exercises.”

“I know. But don't let me interrupt you. Do go on.”

He continued, wondering how this was different from when that other Loki was here, or if it was exactly the same. Eventually, he stopped thinking about anything but the music. He played the piece he had been learning when he first arrived at the New Mexico house, along with the ones he had been working on over the last year.

*****

“Lopt! No!” Bruce found Loki in the kitchen with an orange and white kitten climbing her way up his leg, her tiny claws sunk into his trousers. He scooped her up in his hands, carefully untangling her paws from Loki's clothing. “Sorry, sorry. She's a handful.”

“Lopt? You named your cat after me?” Loki raised an eyebrow. “Should I be flattered or insulted?”

“Hopefully neither.” Bruce tried to hold onto the squirming cat, but she twisted out of his grip and clambered up onto his shoulder, leaving a few light scratches on his hands and forearms. “It's just a name.”

“'Just a name.'” Loki sounded amused. “What was the inspiration?”

“I didn't really have a name for her at first. I had been thinking about naming her after Maria Agnesi. But after she killed a few mice that had gotten into the pantry, she would sneak outside and start a general slaughter anything she could get her paws on. Oh, and one time she beat up a coyote.” Bruce laughed. “She went out after dusk. I was so afraid she'd get eaten...but before I could bring her in I saw her tear a coyote's nose to shreds.”

“A warrior, then.” Loki looked pleased.

“I don't know about that. It's more like she does what she wants.”

“Then a warrior after my own heart.” Loki reached out to pet his namesake. She arched appreciatively under his caressing hand, and swatted at his fingers playfully.

“So, what's the occasion?” Bruce stood very still as Loki leaned over him. He studied Loki curiously. Loki seemed a little different; his hair was shorter than Bruce remembered, and his clothing more elegant. “You know, there are much better pianists than me, if you just want to listen to music. Not that you should be bothering them...”

“Bothering? Is that what I'm doing?” Loki feigned surprise. “Oh, can't a friend come by to visit?”

“Friends? Is that what this is?”

“Isn't it?” Loki smiled, using the full force of his charm. “After all, we broke bread together.”

“The way I remember, it was just corn. Does that count?”

“Then it's a good thing I came prepared.” Loki made a gesture, and between his hands appeared a loaf of bread. “I thought you would say that, so I brought some. Here, have some while it's hot; it's quite nice.”

Before Bruce could find a serrated knife, Loki insisted on splitting the loaf with him with their bare hands, as if it would mean more to break bread with their hands than by cutting it. They ate it standing in the kitchen, dipped in olive oil sprinkled with salt. Lopt sniffing suspiciously at a proffered morsel before nibbling at it and ultimately disdaining it.

“It's good.” Bruce sighed with pleasure. “I haven't had bread like this in a long time. ”

“This I made,” Loki said, offering Bruce more.

“Really? How?”

“With magic.”

Bruce looked at him skeptically, before staring at the bread. “Magic?”

“Or would you rather believe that somewhere on this world, there is a copy of me that is living the quiet life of an industrious baker. And every now and then, I go buy bread from him just to distress him with my existence. “

“So...magic bread.” Bruce chewed a little slower, wondering what went into making bread from magic.

“Yes. And now, by the ancient rules of hospitality, we are most certainly friends.” Loki licked the crumbs off his fingers.

“I'm glad.” Bruce found the words coming out of his mouth before he meant to say them, and was then surprised to realize that he meant them.

 

Later, after a proper dinner, they talked a little, mostly of inconsequential things, and when that conversation turned to books, Loki insisted on raiding Bruce's library. They read together, each with their own book, lost in quiet contemplation.

 

Bruce stirred when Lopt crept under the blankets, nosing him insistently. He didn't remember dozing off, but then he realized that he had fallen asleep on the couch, book in hand. He didn't quite remember how he came to be covered; that must have been Loki, who was here now, asleep as well. Loki was sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, arms folded protectively over his chest. His head was tilted to one side, exposing the long lines of his white throat.

Bruce shifted so he could tug a layer off of his bedding. He leaned forward, and draped the warm wool blanket loosely around Loki's shoulders, careful not to wake him.

Loki didn't stir, breathing calm and even.

He took off his glasses and turned off the light. Lopt moved into his arms, purring loudly under his chin.

Just before Bruce fell asleep, he heard Loki's voice, barely a whisper.

“Thank you, Bruce.”


	6. Extra: The True Meaning of Christmas

“I can't believe it's Christmas Eve already,” Bruce sighed to himself, as he swept the ashes from the fireplace with a small stiff-bristled broom. “Last year I was in Calcutta, and it was hot enough to wear shorts and a t-shirt. This year? It's cold, but it's a dry year. No snow.”

“Mmm.” Loki yawned, looking over at Bruce from his casual sprawl on the couch, his long legs hanging over the end. Lopt was busy sharpening her claws on the heavy material covering Loki's chest. No matter how much Bruce had tried to get her to stop, she had a particular fondness for tough Asgardian clothing and Loki of course did nothing to try and stop her.

As Bruce emptied the dustpanful of ashes into a bucket, he was struck by how much the two were alike. Aloof, often inscrutable, slightly dangerous, and constantly underfoot when it was least convenient. 

Bruce stacked a few logs in the stone-lined fireplace, and with some coaxing and kindling, soon had a fire burning merrily.

“Christmas. I assume it's a local festival?”

“Yes, something like that. Its origins are a little after your time, by which I mean it only spread through those parts of Earth after the folktales of you and your family had been established,” Bruce straightened up, warming his hands. He bit back a burning question regarding an eight-legged mythological horse. “It commemorates the birth of the supposed savior of mankind. These days it's usually celebrated with decorating evergreen trees and gift-giving. Snow is considered very festive.”

“Festive? Or well-omened?” Loki folded his hands behind his head after Lopt leapt off of him to disappear into the bedroom.

“Maybe a little bit of both?” Bruce shrugged. “I never really celebrate it. Well, a little growing up, I guess. But...that was a long time ago. And...”

“And your memories are not pleasant?”

“Not particularly.” Bruce fell silent, staring at the fire.

“Tell me, how are these gifts exchanged? And with whom?”

“Parents and children, mainly. Friends. Lovers...” Bruce felt a sudden jolt of embarrassment. “People are supposed to be more charitable to each other. And there is much feasting and merry-making and decking the halls with boughs of blah blah blah.”

Loki glanced at him, detecting more than a note of bitterness, but saw nothing more than the usual determined set of Bruce's shoulders, his busy hands fidgeting a little nervously. 

“Tell me, if I could make you a gift, what would you like?”

Bruce laughed, a sharp sound. “You don't have to get me anything.”

“But you've been such a good host.” Loki sat up, resting his hands on his knees. “It would be the least I could do.”

“There's nothing, really. Christmas is for kids. I'm too old for this sort of thing...”

“Nonsense. Every man enjoys gifts. And,” Loki smiled, rather genuinely, or something like genuinely, “As I understand it, it's not wise to refuse the gifts of the gods.”

“Hey, don't pull the god card on me,” Bruce shook his head, chuckling. “I'm an agnostic.”

“Even while the real thing is before your eyes,” Loki laughed. “So stubborn.”

“Yes, I've been told that before.”

“Let me guess what you want.” Loki stood up, walking to Bruce's side, examining him closely. “It's not material. It's not power.”

“You're sure right about that.”

“It's something else. Something...”

“Loki...” Flustered, Bruce looked away. “You know I don't need anything from you.”

“Intangible.” Loki ducked his head, so his eyes met Bruce's. “It's something that you can't quite touch. Something that disappears before you can even really feel it.”

“I'm not sure I understand.”

“Meet me outside in-” Loki tilted his head thoughtfully. “Oh, about ten minutes? I think I have just the right thing.”

*****

Ten minutes. It was enough time to set a pot of water on the stove to boil and chop up a pumpkin to roast in the oven. Bruce was working in the kitchen when he noticed that the light was changing, the amber glow of winter dusk slowly replaced by something darker, grayer.

But the sky had been clear, without even the faintest cloud on the horizon.

Bruce checked the clock. Ten minutes had passed. He headed outside, curious.

Just as he stepped out, a cold flake touched his cheek and disappeared, an icy little kiss.

“Is it...It can't be...”

Loki was standing on a little rise just beyond the house, holding an ornate blue object that glowed and pulsed between his hands. His skin too had turned blue, etched with alien striations along the skin of his forehead and of his cheeks.

“What are you doing?” Bruce ran over, laughing a little as the snow came down. “This is crazy!”

“My present to you,” Loki's eyes were bright with excitement. “Just the faintest brush of the Casket of Ancient Winters. It could destroy this world, you know. End all life in a freezing hail. But for you, I made just this little flurry.”

Bruce almost touched Loki's hand, but Loki drew away. “Careful. I could hurt you like this.” Loki's eyes grew melancholy, and with a flourish of his hands, the cube disappeared. His skin slowly turned back to normal, as if the ice melted away, or perhaps as if what passed for Asgardian flooded back in.

But Bruce barely noticed, eyes only for the falling snow.

“I've never seen it snow on Christmas Eve before! When I was little, every year I thought...that if it could happen like this, that maybe things would be better this year.”

Loki watched as Bruce opened his arms to the falling snow. 

“Maybe.” Loki whispered to himself, as snow settled in his dark hair and brushed icy fingers against his cheeks.


	7. Extra: The Onsen Episode

“There's something I want to show you, Bruce. It's on the mountain, not terribly far from here.”

“Oh, what's that?” 

“It's a surprise.” Loki offered Bruce his hand, but Bruce hesitated. 

“Wait. How...did you want to get there?”

“You know, the usual way.” Again, Loki offered Bruce his hand. “Magic.”

“That-” And Bruce managed not to say that it seemed like a bad idea. “That... Um. I think I prefer walking, if you don't mind.”

“If you insist.” 

*****

The way was rough and irregular, made more difficult by lingering patches of ice and the light falling snow. It took them longer than Bruce had thought it would; they had to backtrack a few times around boulders too large to climb and even a cliff that Loki insisted he could fly them over, but Bruce refused.

Finally, hidden in a stand of tall pine trees nestled in the crevasse of a little valley, they came upon what Loki had wanted to show Bruce; a steaming hot spring cupped in a smooth stone depression.

“Wow. I didn't know this was here.” Bruce climbed over a fallen log, inspecting the pool carefully from a distance. “Well, nothing's dead around it, so it's probably not venting poisonous gasses. I wonder how hot it is?”

“Not dangerously so, I would say.” Loki stepped over the log easily and stood by the edge of the water. “It's safe; you could touch it without injury.”

Bruce wafted his hand over the surface, feeling the steam condense around his fingers. “I wonder how deep it is.” He touched the water lightly with the tip of his index finger, testing the temperature, before immersing his fingers. “Oh, that's nice.”

“Deep enough, I should say. Let's go for a swim.” 

Bruce laughed. “In this weather?” Snowflakes clung to his dark curly hair. “I didn't bring a towel and I don't own a swimsuit...and we'll have to hike back.”

“Once we're done, we'll build a fire and dry off. Of course, we don't have to do it that way...I could always transport us.” Loki smiled beguilingly. 

“This is silly.” Bruce shook his head. 

“Come, why go to all this trouble coming here without trying?” Loki gestured around him. “We're probably the only people who know about this place; it's remote and the trees hide it from the world. Let's just enjoy it.”

“Well...”

“You did an awful lot of mathematics earlier. Between that and the hike, you're probably terribly sore and could use a soak.”

“Damn, you're getting to know me too well.” 

 

They undressed. In Loki's case, it was between one step and the next; one moment he was dressed, the next, he was completely nude. Without even a shiver at the cold air, he stepped into the water, submerging himself to the neck, wetting the ends of his black hair.

Bruce turned away as he took off his boots. He shrugged out of his coat and began unbuttoning his shirt, discarding it with a shiver. He began to undo his belt, when he caught a glimpse of Loki out of the corner of his eye.

“Wait, are you watching?”

“Should I not?” Loki chuckled. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, it's just...” Bruce could feel himself blush. “It's... Not polite. Yes, that's it. It's not polite to stare.”

“Oh, I don't think I'm staring." Loki rested his chin on his hands, watching Bruce step out of his pants. 

Bruce glanced back. “You are definitely staring.”

“So?”

“So...” Bruce gave up with a sigh, realizing this was not a battle he could possibly win. Quickly he finished undressing, piling his clothes into a neat stack, and teeth chattering, hurried into the hot water.

 

“If I didn't have to deal with possibility of wolves and coyotes and breaking my neck in the dark, this would be great to do at night.” Bruce sighed, his breath melting into the wafting steam. “Come out here, see the stars...”

“Why not?” Bruce's eyes were closed, but he could hear Loki nearby, his movements causing little ripples in the water. “We could do it. I could protect you.”

Bruce chuckled. “I don't really need protecting, you know.”

“I know. But all the same, at least I could keep you from breaking your neck.” Suddenly the water shifted, and Bruce opened his eyes. Loki was moving closer, sliding an amicable arm around his waist, sending little shocks of feeling through his body.

“Uh, Loki...”

“Oh Bruce.” Loki laughed. “You tense up so easily. Relax. After all, aren't we friends?”

“Yes, but-”

“You don't think friends should do this?” And at that, Loki slid lower in the water and rested his head on Bruce's shoulder, and Bruce could feel the cool, tickling brush of Loki's breath upon his throat.

“N-not where I come from...not really.” Bruce could feel Loki's hand on his waist, each separate finger cool against his skin.

“You're not really the affectionate type.” Loki's head dipped against his shoulder, and Bruce could have sworn he felt the light press of lips against his skin.

“I try not to be.” Bruce carefully, gently tried to shrug Loki off. He could feel his heart begin to beat a little faster, and it brought back that old nervousness, the anxiety of the other self awakening.

“It's a shame. A terrible waste.” At that, Loki straightened up and kissed him lightly, and it was like a crush of snow against his mouth, but much softer. Loki's tongue was cool between his slightly parted lips.

Bruce drew back, shaking his head. “No.” He swallowed, brushing his lips with his hand. “Sorry.”

“Why not? Is it because I'm cold? I can change that.” And at that, Loki's hands on him felt warm, pleasingly so.

“No, you don't understand...”

“Or do you prefer women. Because I could change that too, if you wished...”

“Yes. But um, no. No, no. Really Loki, please, it's not you; I wouldn't want you to change any-”

“You're afraid of the beast within, aren't you? Please, I've had sex with stranger, bigger, and greener beings than you. What makes you think that would be a problem?”

“Were...were they bigger, greener, and angrier beings than what's inside of me?” Bruce trembled, trying to slow his breathing and regain his composure. 

Loki looked at him thoughtfully. “I suppose not. But I do like trying new things...”

“He- he wouldn't be me.” Bruce abruptly pulled away. “Not exactly. And I don't...like being him very much.”

“Come now, Bruce. When was the last time you let anyone close?”

“Does that matter?”

“I think it does.” Loki looked indignant, as if outraged on Bruce's behalf.

“Look. I'm flattered. Really, I am. You're a handsome guy. I don't know what you see in me, when I'm sure you can have just about anyone you like. But...”

“But what?”

“I'm sorry Loki. If you want us to be friends...this can't happen.” Bruce sighed, looking away. “It just can't.”

Loki studied him for a long moment.

“I think understand.” Loki smiled at him a little and offered Bruce his hand. “It won't happen again. Friends?”

Bruce took Loki's hand and clasped it firmly. “Friends.”

 

While Bruce was drying off in the warm blaze of a fire tucked carefully in a circle of rocks, Loki disappeared for a little while, showing up with a brace of skinned and gutted rabbits that he roasted over the fire. As they ate, the sun set. Wind swept away the clouds as night fell, shuddering the tall pine trees.

 

Later, they went back into the water one last time. They sat back to back, leaning against each other. Bruce named the constellations for Loki that they could see through sparse branches of the pine trees and Loki named the individual stars, not their earthly names but their true names.

Before long, the skies clouded over and it began to snow again.

As Bruce dressed, warmed and dried by some magic that Loki insisted on employing after the fire died out, a snowflake brushed against his lips, and he thought for a moment about what had happened earlier.

But he pushed it from his mind and followed Loki out of the dark forest.

*****

As they headed back to the house, Bruce stopped briefly on a ridge. Eyes narrowed, he wondered if he could see any hint of the night sky, but it was cloud-covered, hindering even the moon's glow. Snow was falling, and he dusted it off his hair and clothes.

“Tell me, what are you thinking?” Loki set his hand on Bruce's shoulder. Tired, Bruce leaned against Loki's shoulder briefly.

“Do the stars look so different where you are from?”

“Yes, because we're so much closer to them.”

“That sounds like it would be beautiful.”

“It is. I would show you someday, if you like.”

Bruce chuckled. “Sorry, Loki. I'm a lowly earth-bound creature. I'm not up to all that high-flying adventure. Once was enough to last a lifetime.”

“Are you really that afraid of taking risks?” Loki slipped his arm around Bruce's shoulder, and was faintly pleased when Bruce didn't pull away.

“No, it's not that. I made a promise to myself...”

“About what?”

Bruce shook his head, mouth pursed in a sad, wistful smile. “I'm not going to say.”

Loki thought about it for a moment, thinking he could perhaps charm Bruce out of his reticence. But then following Bruce's gaze to the sky beyond the horizon, he thought perhaps it was better not to push things.

They stood there silent, before Bruce began to shiver from the cold, and then they descended from the mountain together.


	8. Extra: Box of Cats

“Oh good, you're up.” Bruce had been scribbling something hastily on a piece of paper, but he crumpled it and tossed it in the trash. “That saves me from having to write a note. Breakfast is over there, and I'll be back soon.” He headed briskly for the door, but Loki cut him off, blocking his way.

“Going somewhere so early?” Loki raised an eyebrow. Bruce had a thick envelope in hand, and seemed unusually evasive.

“Just the post office. Oh, and I need groceries. Running out of lentils. Ha. Anyway, I'll be back in a few hours-”

“Can I come?”

“Um.” Bruce frowned, and Loki felt as though he could almost see the thoughts tumbling through Bruce's mind as he sought a suitable response. “I think it's...better if you don't come. I don't know who is watching me these days. And...well.”

“Well?”

“Well...” Bruce sighed. “Just stay here, okay? I don't want to cause any trouble.”

“I won't be any trouble, I swear.” Loki raised his hand with practiced formality. “You have my word.”

“You can't go dressed like that.” 

“I know. I promise no one will even notice me. I have my methods of disguise. I just want to observe.”

“Fine.” Bruce sighed, feeling all his arguments evaporating before he could even clearly state them. It was strangely difficult to argue with Loki – somehow he always manged to get his way.

*****

It was a jarring slow drive to the highway. The road between his land and the nearest highway was something much less than a dirt road; in this winter weather, it was muddy and at times the truck needed occasional coaxing to get unstuck. Bruce eventually conceded that it was not a terrible thing to have a second set of hands to help him; he hadn't anticipated the difficulty.

Loki seemed untroubled, his eyes were bright with anticipation as if he was looking forward to the prospect of seeing a little town in New Mexico. But then, Bruce thought as he drove, turning on the radio to listen to the faint crackle of music and talk between the long bands of static, he was a little excited himself at the prospect of a change of scenery. 

But as they pulled into town, Bruce began to worry.

“Loki, you know someone could see you. I don't want things to get weird...”

When Loki didn't respond, Bruce looked over to see that Loki was gone. It startled him so much he quickly pulled over, parking along the side of the road. “Loki?”

“Mrr.” Lopt clambered out from under the seat.

“Great. So now you're my cat.”

Lopt licked her paw delicately, before climbing up Bruce's arm and settling on his shoulder.

“You're getting a little big for this, Lopt.”

In response, she kneaded her claws into his sweater. 

“Fine, fine. Let's just get this over with.” Bruce put the car into gear, and headed to the post office.

*****

“Oh, excuse me.” Bruce apologized as his hand bumped into the hand of a young woman as they reached for the same tracking forms. “Sorry.” 

“It's okay. You first.” She smiled brightly at him, and he couldn't help but be charmed. “Oh, is that your cat?”

“Yeah. Uh. This is my cat. Yes.” Bruce filled out the paperwork, half-distracted. “She's um...kind of an adventurer. Doesn't like to stay home like a good girl.”

“That's so sweet. Oh, you're submitting a paper to PRL?” She visibly brightened. “Me too! What a small world!” With a little jolt of horror, he realized that she had seen the mailing label. Bruce awkwardly covered it with his hand, as if it could undo the damage.

“Y-yeah. Well. It's nothing special. Just, you know. Run-of-the-mill stuff.”

She looked at him closely. “No one submits run-of-the-mill stuff to PRL. I didn't know anyone else out here was doing physics at this level.”

“Yeah. Um, look, I really ought to go. See, my cat hid in my car and was following me and I should really take her back home. She's not good with crowds...I don't want to lose her but I can't leave her in the car-”

“Aww, what's your kitty's name?” The young woman petted Lopt, scratching her behind the ears. Lopt dignified the attention with another fanged yawn.

“Lopt. Oh. Well, I better get going. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. uh...”

“Jane!” A loud voice boomed through the tiny post office, and all heads turned. “I thought you said you wouldn't be long!”

“Sorry Thor, I'm coming!” She giggled. “Sorry about that. Dr. Jane Foster.” She shook his hand firmly. “I gotta go, my boyfriend's waiting for me...”

“Uh, yeah.” Bruce's eyes widened, and he clung to his envelope. On his shoulder, Lopt nipped at his ear. Perhaps if he hurried, he could-

And at that moment, Thor stepped in through the only door and Bruce realized he couldn't get away.

*****

“I didn't know I would find you here. Had I known, I would have properly greeted you as one of my former comrades in arms,” Thor lifted a mug of coffee and toasted him. Embarrassed, Bruce focused on his eggs and bacon, feeding tidbits to Lopt who sat curled in his lap.

“That is... Totally unnecessary. Not that I don't appreciate it. Because I do, really.” Bruce could feel Lopt purring in his lap, and was a little annoyed at how much Loki must be enjoying all of this minor mayhem.

“You are a brave and strong fighter. I hope to have you at my side again someday.”

“Thanks, but I like the quiet life.”

Thor leaned forward. “I am glad that I could spend time with you alone. My mortal darling works so industriously, but for once I am glad that she is too busy to sup with us. There is something that I must discuss with you in private, something of grave importance.”

“Y-yes?” Bruce tried to keep a straight face, but internally he felt a uncomfortable anxiety gnawing at him, afraid that this meant that he would have to return to the world of the dangerous and controlling men of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Thor's blue eyes met his, and Bruce felt pinned by the gaze.

“Have you seen my brother recently?”

“Oh.” Bruce sighed, some of the tension melting away, only to be replaced with another. “Well. Your brother? I...ouch!” Bruce jumped as Lopt's claws dug into a tender part of his thigh. “Ow, ow, ow! Lo-uh-Lopt. Please, a little more gentle...” He picked up the cat delicately, untangling her claws from his pants, and set her beside him on the booth.

“Lopt?” Thor was taken aback. “You named your cat after my brother?”

“Yes. No. No, no, no. It's not what it looks like. See, I had a dog growing up that I named Thor and when I found this cat I thought, hey it would be funny to name her after Loki...like the mythology! And you know, the things you do as a child, it's just a silly conceit; it's certainly not because of your brother, no, not at all...” And to Bruce's surprise, Thor nodded gravely.

“I understand. The memories of boyhood are important to a man. After all, is not the boy the father of the man?”

“Yes, I've heard something like that,” Bruce said weakly, glad to be let off the hook.

Thor reached over and patted him soundly on the shoulder. “I'm pleased. I would like to see this little Loki of yours.”

“She's all yours.” Bruce couldn't help the sarcasm in his voice as he lifted Lopt and handed her over the table to Thor. “Careful, she can be a scratcher.”

Thor ran his fingers over her back, and Lopt arched up with pleasure, purring loudly.

“The beast has taken a liking to me.” He chuckled, pleased by Lopt's attention. 

“O-oh good.” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. If only he could get away...

Thor chuckled as Lopt licked his cheek with a raspy tongue. “This is delightful! What a marvelous creature!”

“Yeah...marvelous.”

*****

As they stepped out of the diner, Thor caught Bruce's shoulder in a firm grip. “You never answered my question.” 

“Oh. I guess I didn't.” Lopt swayed on Thor's shoulder, before pouncing at his blond locks, gnawing at his braided hair, paws wrapped around his neck. She paused to meet Bruce's eyes with a sharp look.

“Have you seen him? Have you seen Loki?”

Bruce swallowed, looking down. “No.” He could feel himself starting to blush; he was terrible at lying.

But Thor merely sighed. “I don't suppose anyone has.”

“I'm sorry.” 

“I am as well.” Thor sighed, and carefully, with a delicacy that seemed incongruous in a man so big, he took Lopt off his shoulder and handed her back to Bruce. “I will continue to search for him then.” His eyes fixed in the distance. “It's been...too long.”

“I'm sorry.” Bruce held the cat close. “I wish I could help you.”

“It's no matter.” Thor straightened up. “I will find him. He is my beloved brother. Our paths are destined to cross, no matter how vast the distances are between us.”

At that, Bruce had nothing to say, not at the deep sadness that weighed upon Thor.

“I must go now, to Jane,” Thor announced. “And you must return to your work as well. I have kept you long enough from your endeavors. May we meet again soon, my friend.”

“I'm sorry.” Bruce mumbled as he hurried away with Lopt. And as they walked out of earshot, Bruce whispered to the cat: “You ought to go to him. He's your brother! Don't you care?”

But the cat just sneezed, swishing her tail nonchalantly.

*****

Bruce finished the rest of his errands and drove away in silence. As they headed down the highway, he glanced over; Lopt was asleep in the passenger seat, her nose tucked under her tail.

Hours later, he pulled the truck up beside the house and parked.

“Why didn't you just tell him you were there?”

“Because I couldn't.” Bruce glanced over, and Loki was beside him again, Lopt on his lap, still asleep.

Bruce took a deep breath. The surreal and unexpected was starting to become unpleasantly normal.

“Why not? He's your brother, and he looked miserable.”

“I have unfinished business,” Loki frowned, tensing. “He can't know because he would complicate things and it would stay unfinished if he knew.”

“I don't know why I lied for you.”

“Because deep down, you wanted to.” Loki said simply, as if it was the most logical reasoning possible.

“Maybe. And...Lopt? Lopt was with us this entire time?”

“She was in the truck before you got started going. Really, Bruce, you ought to have checked.”

“Yeah. She gets into everything. Wait, why didn't you check?”

“I only noticed later. Besides, without her, we wouldn't have had such a lovely little adventure.”

“Wait, so were you the cat or...”

Loki smiled at him, eyes bright with amusement. “What do you think?”

“I...I don't know what to think anymore.” Exasperated, Bruce climbed out of the truck and began to unload the groceries.

Loki got out, carrying the cat inside before helping Bruce move his supplies. For a while he was a little concerned that Bruce was angry at him, but then he thought, if Bruce was truly angry, it would be distinct and manifest.

A little later, he found Bruce lying on the couch, trying to write on a notepad while Lopt gnawed at the end of his pen.

Bruce paused what he was doing and his gaze idly wandered from Lopt to Loki, back and forth. Suddenly he started laughing, loudly and helplessly, until he was breathless and wiping tears from his eyes.

“Schrödinger's Loki!”

At that, Loki decided he had been forgiven, and sat down on the floor beside the couch, distracting Lopt away so that Bruce could work.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a comedy, but it didn't work out that way.
> 
> Thank you to my beta readers, Aeanagwen, Kizu Kyou, and Naminational for their help and recommendations. Special thanks to Greekhoop for convincing me to write this.
> 
> 11.29: Currently working on the next chapter. There will be a coda, and an extra.
> 
> 12.2: Since my last note here, I've written an additional extra. There are 2 total: The Onsen Episode (as requested by Nami) and The True Meaning of Christmas (part of the original plan, when it was still meant to be a comedy), still in the process of being edited. I also cut out a scene that I had fun writing, but didn't fit the story very well. Maybe I'll post it to lj or something if anyone's interested. Anyhow, thank you very much for reading! This is my first time venturing into Avengers/Thor fandom, and it was really fun. Thank you for all of your support.
> 
> Notes on title:  
> From what I've read of Scandinavian mythology, a vardøgr is supposed to be a premonition double of a person that appears where that person really wants to be. In Loki's case, it's not so much a physical place as an emotional place: somewhere where he won't be feared or judged and can live peacefully. Bruce Banner is the closest he's going to get to that place without the baggage of family. In this fic, no matter how much Loki loves his brother, whenever they're together, they fall back into the bad habits of the past. I don't think Loki specifically wanted to be with Bruce Banner in any conscious way. It's more like he's drawn to the peacefulness around Bruce.
> 
> Notes on music:  
> -The story Bruce tells Loki in chapter 4 is about J.S. Bach and Frederick the Great of Prussia.  
> -Bruce is learning the Bach Inventions, starting with the key of C.  
> -I don't tend listen to music while I write, but I loosely based some of this fic on some of the structure of Shostakovich Piano Concerto #1 (mostly the first movement, which corresponds to the story up through about chapter 4). For the first movement, I like to think the piano is Loki, the strings are Bruce (with the lower strings as the Hulk), and the trumpet is Thor. My favorite recording is on youtube, and can be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cWSsGTwaZE
> 
> Misc:  
> Lopt is based on two cats, owned by different friends, but is mostly based on the one also known as The Orange Death.
> 
> 12.20 I know I said there would only be two extras, but I've written an additional extra chapter (this fic is eating my life) and have started on a sequel that if I can pull it off, should be fairly funny. Thank you for reading!
> 
> 12.25 Merry Christmas!
> 
> 1.1 Happy New Year! I realized I forgot to add notes to the last extra. PRL is a prestigious academic journal for physics. Every day Bruce puts in a few hours on research. Some of that time is spent on a cure for his condition (which is what he was working on in the early chapters), the rest for whatever grant he's working on that's paying for his expenses.
> 
> 4.30.15 There are two sequels to this story, [The Fylgja](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2772629/chapters/6218324) and [The Konungr](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3127601/chapters/6778490). There's also a funny 'sort of sequel', [Loki's Copycat Adventures](http://archiveofourown.org/works/754355/chapters/1409239) in which Loki tries to hunt down and reclaim his most lively and famous copy, Tom Hiddleston.


End file.
